AN- OK, chapter 4! Just as a warning, there is a very mild sex reference, but I tried not to make it too graphic (that's why it's rated T). Please keep reviewing and giving me advice.
Shout outs: Thank you to Tantomile Forever for reviewing and following the story.
Thank you to DemeterJemima for all your great reviews and for adding it as a favourite. I really appreciate it. :-)
-Demeterfan
Disclaimer: I do not own CATS, it belongs to T. and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Chapter 3
After spending a rather uncomfortable night scrunched up in the metal pipe, I dozed on and off throughout the morning. The sunlight was much weaker than it had been for the past week, but such a heavy moisture hung in the air that you were hot even when laying perfectly still. By late afternoon, several ominous dark clouds, pregnant with water, gathered in the sky, blocking the sun completely and making everywhere considerably darker; classic storm weather. Everyone started to move towards their dens, preparing to wait out the inevitable storm. Jenny and Jelly were trying to round up all the kittens, ushering them inside like a loud, fearful flock of sheep. The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky and the kits screamed, a few starting to whimper before Jelly prodded them into the safety of her den. Sighing, I made my way to my own den, but Bomba stopped me at the entrance.
"You can't come in here, Deme."
she said, half-closing the door like I'd just accept that and go somewhere else. I grabbed the wood and forced it back open.
"What, in the name of the Everlasting Cat, do you mean, Bomba?"
I growled, my eyes hard and serious. Bomba squared up to me, her body rigid.
"I've got Tugger over, go away."
I very nearly scratched my sister's obstinate face. It was a struggle not to expose my claws, but I was worried what I might do if they slipped out.
"Where am I supposed to go? It's about to pour it down with rain!"
I snarled, my teeth clenched. Bomba sighed irritably, probably wanting to get back to Tugger.
"Go stay with Munk!"
she snapped and slammed the door shut, nearly breaking my arm in the process. I quickly scratched down the door in frustration, making little grooves in the dirty wood.
How could Bomba lock me out? I'm her sister! You're not supposed to treat family like this: first locking me in and the shutting me out. If the roles were reversed, I would've let Bomba in straight away, even if I had a Tom with me. Where could I go now?
'Go stay with Munk!'
Did I dare? Another clap of thunder roared me an answer; I'd have to, or spend the whole storm out in the open, freezing,wet and scared. Still seething, I stomped off to Munk's den, concocting several ways to get revenge on Bomba.
Munk only had a piece of fabric acting as a door, so, since I couldn't knock, I called his name a few times, but received no answer. Gingerly, I poked my head round and scanned the inside of the den; Munk wasn't there. Was he still with his humans? He must be; I hadn't seen him all day. Had he not noticed the tell-tale signs of the storm: the humid day, the large, black clouds, the darkening afternoon, the early claps of thunder? I glanced up at the swollen sky doubtfully; Munk was usually very observant, he would have noticed. For whatever reason, my gut told me something was wrong.
After dithering for a while, I decided there was no harm in going to see if I could find him with his humans, if not I'd simply have to take refuge in his den until the storm blew over. I sprinted to the junkyard gates, hoping to avoid the rain. No such luck, I felt the first few drops as I stepped out onto the street, and those few drops quickly escalated into a full-blown downpour, soaking me to the skin. Several humans were still walking about, huddled under large umbrellas and grumbling about the awful weather. Most of them ignored me, brushing me aside blindly as they hurried to get to shelter, although one older lady stroked my sodden fur with her shaky fingers and mumbled to herself about the 'poor little kitty'.
The heavy sheet of rain was making it exceedingly hard to see and the lightning that illuminated the dismal street every few minuets made everything all the more disoriented and confusing. This made crossing the thing the humans called a 'road' very dangerous. I was already rather fearful of those large metal beasts that roared down the street at such a deadly pace, with blinding lights that left you frozen on the spot. One of Jennyanydot and Skimbleshanks' kittens once got mowed down by one of the monsters, and the driver didn't even stop.
Squinting, I peered down the long road but couldn't make out any lights and I could only hear the rumbles of thunder and mournful pattering of the heavy rain. I took a deep breath to steady myself and dashed out, running like a rat. I heard a squeal of brakes an the deafening, insistent honk of a horn, but I'd got across unscathed. The driver rolled his window down and screamed obscenities at me, foul words that dripped from his lips like bile and made my ears burn.
I passed several suburban houses, with little painted gates and carefully clipped hedges and lawns mowed into stripes. Even the flowers in the garden stood in colour coordinated rows, like mini soldiers. A Peke sat in the window of one of these houses and he started barking hysterically and scratching the window glass manically. I rubbed myself against his gate, teasing him, and then hurried on.
When I finally reached the home of Munk's humans I was rain-battered and shivering, chilled to the bone. There was a sign stuck in the front lawn, but, try as I might, I couldn't see past the rain to decipher what it said. I looked around the front garden quizzically: where was the bike that the ten year old boy was so proud of? Where was the little swing for the baby? Why were the little toddler's frog Wellingtons not lolling on the front steps as usual?
I found my way around to the side of the house, wriggling under the wooden gate and gazed around the garden in wonder. It was huge, with a paved patio, the stone slabs arranged in such a bizarre fashion the patio looked slightly crazy; to one side, there was what looked like a vegetable patch, and, on the other side, a flower bed full of chrysanthemums, daisies, poppies and large, towering sunflowers. Right at the bottom of the wondrous garden, there was a large, droopy willow tree, with the dangling branches trailing in a little pond.
Sitting beside the pond, I could just about make out a small, silver figure. I ran towards him, across the slippery patio; past the vegetable patch, now just a very muddy pool of water; around the flower bed, all the petals stuck together from the rain and the sunflowers drooping; right down to the pond.
Munk was sat like a statue, so still anyone else would have mistaken him for a model cat, seemingly oblivious to the violent storm. Several small goldfish were swimming around in the pond but Munk made no attempt to grab them and his eyes didn't follow their movements. The fish seemed to notice this; they were swimming close to the surface and bouncing out of the water, as if to say 'come and get me!' I swiped a paw in the water, making the fish scatter and swim frantically to the safety of the bottom of the pond. Munk must have noticed me, have heard me, but his eyes didn't even flicker, he kept on staring at the water, as if he was trying to measure the depth.
How long had he been sitting there? He was soaking wet and shivering violently, though something told me that wasn't just from the cold. When I touched his paw, he felt like ice.
"Munk? What's the matter?"
I asked, so worried now. He sighed sadly but didn't acknowledge me in any other way. It scared me to see him like that; he was usually so sensible and controlled.
"What's happened? Why aren't you inside?"
I tried again, but got the same reaction, although he bit his lip when I asked the latter question. Maybe he didn't want to talk just yet?
"It's OK, you don't have to tell me what's happened, but lets go back to the junkyard; we're both soaking wet."
Munk still didn't speak, but, this time, he turned his head and looked at me, his eyes so desperately sad it made me want to cry. I was dying to know what had upset him, but I couldn't exactly order him to tell me. I tried to make my eyes look trusting. It seemed to work because Munk spoke, his voice as hollow and empty as a robot:
"They've gone, Deme."
He turned his eyes back to the pond, refocusing on that.
"Who've gone?"
"My humans, they've left me."
Suddenly, the image of the sign on the front lawn flashed in my mind; I hadn't read it but I now knew what it said: SOLD.
"Oh, Munk..."
was all I could manage. I knew how much a cat could grow attached to their humans, even Tugger, who's people have a four year old daughter who ties little bow and beads and ribbons in his mane, much to his disgust and my delight. How could Munk's family leave him? They wouldn't leave one of their children behind, so why their cat? Most humans think animals can't understand, but we do and we have feelings, just the same as them. Munk was a stray now, same as me.
He looked down at his collar, as if he'd heard me. He yanked it off swiftly and hurled into the pond water, splashing us both thoroughly. We watched it sink in silence, as the fish swirled round worriedly at the sudden disturbance.
A flash of lightning highlighted us both and was followed almost immediately by a rumble of thunder. Munk glanced at the sky in surprise, as if it was the first time he'd noticed the storm. He studied his own sodden fur and then trained his eyes on my drenched face, water dripping miserably off my whiskers.
"We've got to get back."
he said wretchedly, looking upset that he'd kept us out in the cold for so long. I nodded and took his paw, and he clung on like I was his only life-ring and he was floundering in shark infested waters. He kept his eyes forward the whole walk back, not even glancing behind to take one last look at the house.
When we reached the 'yard I started to feel worried again; if Munk didn't want me to accompany him into his den I'd be out in the open until the storm ended, but, on the other hand, now was definitely not the right time to ask if I could bunk with him. Luckily, he simply led me over to his den, still clasping my paw, so my worries were for nothing.
His den was very neat, with several pillows and bedraggled blankets in the middle of the room, a clock with a broken face in one corner and a few dog-eared, tattered books piled up in another. Munk sat on the pillows, staring into space, not making any attempt to lick himself dry. I sat beside him and gave him a nudge, licking my own arms to jog his memory, but he paid me no heed. Sighing, I leaned over and started licking him myself; I was quite surprised I had the guts to do that.
"I'm sorry."
he whispered, when I'd decided he was sufficiently dry and was carefully licking myself.
"I'm so useless."
I grabbed both his paws.
"Stop that!"
"It's true. Even my own humans didn't want me."
I was suddenly furious; not with Munk, with his humans. They were all the same. They acted like they loved you, they acted like they'd always be there, then they'd leave and forget all about their poor, destitute cat. I wanted to track Munk's humans down, march them all the way back to the Jellicle junkyard and show them what they'd done to Munk. That's the problem with humans: they never see enough.
"Screw them!"
I suddenly burst out, startling Munk. He stared at me, his eyes shocked and confused.
"I can't stand to see you so torn up about losing your humans, Munk. I don't know why they moved and I don't know why they left you, but I do know that you're the sweetest, kindest, best cat from here to Heavyside and if your humans can't see that, the it's their loss."
I finished, breathing heavily. Munk probably would have looked less shocked if the clock had stood up and started yelling, waving it's little black hands about. His eyes softened and he suddenly pulled he close, pressing my body against his. We were kissing properly, our mouths open. His tongue flicked against mine, but it didn't make him want to retch, like I thought it would; it felt right. I wanted him to love me more than anything and he seemed to feel the same way. I felt breathless, light-headed, but so happy I didn't care. I didn't want to think about anyone but him, not my sister, not Tugger, no one else. I breathed in Munk's scent, felt his body up against mine, lived for his kiss on my neck and my lips.
If I'd been offered three wishes at that exact moment, I would have wished to feel the pleasure he gave me for all eternity; I'd wish it three times over. We lay in each other's embrace, hot and happy, as the wind howled outside, the rain beat the ground mercilessly, the thunder crashed and rolled, and the lightning lit up the evening for a split second, before allowing it to fall dim again.
Did you like? R&R so I know! I felt really sorry for poor Munk when I wrote this and I tried so hard to make it a sort-of happy ending. Chapter 5 coming soon.